


hello to my old heart

by izabellwit



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Feelings Realization, Foreshadowing, Gen, Inspired by Varian and the Seven Kingdoms - Kaitlyn Ritter & Anna Lencioni, M/M, Swearing, Trust Issues, in which Hugo realizes he actually likes these people and is rightfully horrified, is is betrayal if you betrayed them before you even knew them?? fun questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izabellwit/pseuds/izabellwit
Summary: “Why do youtrustme so much?”Or: the beginning of the end for the betrayer. In which Hugo asks a long-overdue question, and gets the answer he never wanted to hear.
Relationships: Hugo/Varian (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 298





	hello to my old heart

**Author's Note:**

> I discovered the seven kingdoms au like.... a week ago and HI, IM HERE NOW, I LOVE IT
> 
> (Go search "varian and the seven kingdoms" Tumblr tag if you're curious-- I don't have the full au post on me, but TRUST ME it is definitely worth checking out!! Heck yeah!!)

It is midnight after the trial, after retrieving yet another totem, after everything, and Hugo thinks he might be sick. 

Too close, he thinks. _Too close._ Everything that’s happened, everything he’s been doing… and Donella was _there._ She saw him, she met his eyes—pretended she hadn’t known him, kept his cover, and yet the unease is still there, itching beneath his skin, restless in his hands. Donella. There. The group had clashed with her. She’d warned them about the Library. Varian had said— 

_I won’t let you stop me!_

—and she’d smiled. Smiled. Like she knew something Varian didn’t. 

Nothing happened, Hugo reminds himself. It’s dark now—gone straight through evening right on to night—and their small group has settled down by the city limits, half-way in the trees. Yong has the campfire already lit and burning under Nuru’s supervision; Nuru has the maps spread out on her knees, plotting the best route towards the next kingdom. It’s domestic and normal and _natural_ —and it makes Hugo want to scream, almost. When did he get _used_ to this? It makes him feel jittery and thin and small, because for the first time in a long time—in months! Goddamn!—he’s been reminded, forcibly and irrevocably, of just how little he belongs here.

Nuru had noticed, earlier. Of course Nuru had noticed—she’s the most focused of the four of them, the most eagle-eyed, as one should be when making maps out of stars. _Did you know her?_ she’d asked him then, after Donella had vanished, her voice low as they’d run and left the kingdom behind them. _That woman?_ And when Hugo’s throat had sealed up, sudden and sharp and awful, Nuru had looked him full in the face and said, _Oh. Never mind._

So stupid, Hugo thinks, leaning against a tree to hide the weakness in his knees, watching Nuru fuss over the maps. So, so stupid of her. Where has all her suspicion gone? She was always the most critical of him—he knows that, he remembers that, how can he not—even though she was never there for the beginning. And now— now.

_Oh. Never mind._

His fingers curl in his sleeve. He chances a glance back, through the trees. Varian is off to the side, away from the fire, deeper in the shadows, his own private set up for a new experiment of his. He’s been there for a while, now, ever since they settled down to camp. Had said, laughingly, that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to mess with this compound around the fire, _start dinner without me—_ and Hugo can only just barely see the shape of him through the shadows of the trees. That dark head of hair is bowed low over the makeshift workbench; he can’t see Varian’s face, but Hugo can imagine the focus of it, the intent. Trust. If Hugo is really going to start berating this group about faith, shouldn’t he start with the worst offender?

He’s only here at all, Hugo knows, with a sudden twist to his gut, because months ago Varian decided to have faith in him. For some reason. For… 

Hugo doesn’t even know why. He’s never asked. It’s… never mattered before.

But Donella’s smile plays out in his head, and Nuru’s voice says, soft and careful— _Never mind—_ and Hugo is walking over to Varian before he even knows, truly, what he’s doing. 

It’s quiet here, away from the main camp. There is something strangely secret about it all, about the distance and the darkness and the way Nuru and Yong’s voices have faded to whispers behind him. The lamplight of Varian’s staff casts a quiet green glow across everything; it should be sinister, in a way, and yet it just feels warm. In the light Varian himself is focused entirely on the project before him—he likely hasn’t even noticed Hugo is there, Hugo thinks faintly, and for some reason, despite everything, this almost makes him laugh.

He leans against a nearby tree, arms crossed, and says, “Pretty sure that element explodes under heat, you know. I _do_ hope you know that. Why are you trying to set it on fire?” He grins. “Oh! Oh, don’t tell me, did you mistake it for lithium? That’s adorable. Beginner’s mistake. So cute.”

Varian’s shoulders tick up, and his hand spasms, the vial almost dropped. “Gah!” His eyes flash sideways, narrow beneath his goggles. “Stop _doing_ that! Why do you always sneak up on—never mind, doesn’t matter, shut up, I know what I’m doing.”

Hugo hums, as skeptical as he can, if only to make Varian scowl. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“Ha, ha,” Varian says, sarcastic, but the old bite is worn now, almost fond, though he sounds a little annoyed regardless. “You don’t even know what I’m making, shove off.”

“…True.” Hugo leans against the tree, sliding down until he’s sitting, one leg drawn up. He rests his elbow on his knee and watches Varian work. Whatever he’s making, it’s lovely—all silver and bronze and glowing solution like a liquid gold. For all his doubts on its application, Hugo can at least appreciate the aesthetics of it. It’s probably important. Probably for the machine, the gateway to the Library. Probably…

Probably something Donella would want him to steal, eventually.

The tightness returns, winding vicious in his gut. Hugo looks away, and lets the conversation drop, unsure of how to continue it, if he even wants to. Varian goes back to work without comment, obvious dismissal, and Hugo stays sitting there, awkward, feeling out-of-place and unsure of why. 

But Varian hasn’t asked him to leave, yet—not that Hugo would even if he had, but whatever—so he stays, lingering on the fringes, watching Varian work. For all of Hugo’s teasing, Varian really is clever. The focus in those blue eyes, the intent line of his mouth—this is Varian thinking, Varian with the world spinning out in blueprints behind his eyes, and Hugo has always admired that feeling, always loved it, always appreciated the fact Varian knew and understood it the same way he did.

He leans his head back against the tree, and sighs. 

“So,” Hugo says, finally, absent and casual and _not-that-I-care-but_ , eyes deliberately turned away, “what’s your deal with me, anyway?”

Varian hums, not listening. Then the words actually compute, because he snorts suddenly, and pushes his goggles away from his face. “What?”

He’s smiling. Something about that sits wrong with Hugo; it flutters in his chest like a wound. Hugo tries not to scowl. _Casual,_ damn it. “What do you mean, _what?_ ” He rolls his eyes. “This weird… I don’t even know. Faith, or whatever. I mean, seriously.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, even from the beginning…” All of Yong’s protests, Nuru’s suspicions—and Varian, who listened and nodded and then waved them away. _We’ll see,_ he’d said, to their fears. And to Hugo: _I’m trying to trust you. Don’t prove me wrong, okay?_

Hugo hadn’t cared, then, about the _why._ He hadn’t… it had been an in, an easy entrance, and so he’d never thought to question it. So what if Varian was naive, too trusting for his own good—all the better for Hugo, wasn’t it? And so Hugo had never asked. He’d barely even wondered. 

“Why,” Hugo says, months too late but wondering all the same, “do you _trust_ me so much?”

“Hmm.” Varian has raised a vial to his face, peering into the contents. He waves a dismissive hand, absent-minded. He’s not even listening, Hugo realizes, and it’s like a hot knife to his gut. “Why not?”

“I—” And oh, fucking hell, that had almost come out strangled. Hugo snaps his mouth shut, feeling slapped and not entirely sure why. For the love of… this is what he gets for being open, Hugo supposes. This is what he gets for asking too late. Gods. Screw this, anyway.

He climbs to his feet, face flushed, hands curled. “Whatever.”

He’s making back for the campfire when Varian’s voice stops him cold. “Wait.” Despite himself, Hugo looks back. Varian has lowered the vial. He’s looking at Hugo now—actually, _truly_ looking, with a sudden intent that makes Hugo straighten on instinct. In the pale green glow of the staff, Varian’s eyes are sharp as glass. 

Varian searches his face, and whatever he finds there makes his expression twist. “Oh.”

Hugo bristles. “ _What_?”

Varian is quiet. His lips press. The sudden focus of his gaze is gone—now he seems drained, almost tired. He pushes his hand back through his hair, and his gaze wanders to the ground, and then, absently, he says, “When I was fourteen, I almost killed my dad.”

Hugo opens his mouth. Hugo closes his mouth.

“I mean, I—didn’t. Obviously. But I… I mean, he should be dead, actually, laws of reason dictate, and I’m pretty now it was only magic that… but I didn’t know that at the time, so really my belief was more denial than sense, in hindsight? And I’m still not sure how to feel about that... anyway.” Varian presses his lips together, the ramble cutting short. His hand is tight on his sleeve—so tight his hands must be white-knuckled under the gloves, and all the color seems to have drained from his face. He looks—older, in this light, with this expression. He looks exhausted.

“I was angry,” Varian says, simply, when Hugo doesn’t respond. “Um. Very… very angry. And I hurt… a lot of people. Some of them I knew. Most I didn’t. And some…” His hands curl. “Never mind. It’s not important. I— told you I’ve been in prison before. Right? I mean, I’m pretty sure I mentioned it, like, once— anyway. Um. Three counts of attempted murder, high treason, kidnapping, attempted regicide, drugging a whole castle with truth serum without their consent, I could go on, but. You probably get the idea.”

Yeah, Hugo does get the idea. The idea is straight-up freaking unbelievable. _What?_ He… he can’t even fathom that. He’s seen Varian angry, he knows Varian can be dangerous, but…

“I don’t understand,” he says, before he can stop himself, and Varian curls in on himself with a laugh that sounds very hollow. 

“Yeah, I—I get that. I don’t know myself, really. Why I reacted that way. I’ve thought about it over and over, and I don’t… maybe it was one thing? Or maybe it was everything. My dad was gone. I was alone, I guess. And—and in the end, it just felt… like a betrayal. Like my friends, like my town, like _everyone_ had turned their backs on me, on my dad. And I just… I couldn’t stand that.” He shakes his head, voice going small, murmuring. “ _Betrayal._ Dark word, isn’t it? Never done well with being… well.” Varian laughs. It sounds forced. “Um. This is all speculation, anyway.”

Hugo says nothing. The ground feels very shaky, suddenly; he feels fever-hot and sick. “Oh,” he says. He realizes suddenly his hands are shaking, and tucks them in his pockets. The ground has fallen out beneath his feet; the pieces have clicked into place. He understands. He does. It’s the answer to a question he’d never been able to ask, and even though it's exactly what he expected, it still guts him whole. “…Oh.”

And he thinks: _When this is over, you’ll never forgive me._

Varian laughs again. “Yeah,” he says, muted agreement. He draws his legs up close, criss-cross, and rests gloved hands on his ankles. “But… I guess, to answer your question... Even after all that, despite everything— someone still believed in me. Someone was willing to give me a chance. She—even though she had the most reason out of anyone to hate me… she still offered me her hand.” 

Varian tilts his head. He meets Hugo’s eyes. He smiles. “That’s why,” he says. “I trusted you because someone once trusted me. And I was right, wasn’t I?” He shrugs. “I trust you _now_ because you’ve earned it.”

Hugo’s mouth is dry. His throat aches. He wants, bizarrely, to scream. “…Right.” How stupid. So, so fucking stupid of him. He’d gotten his second chance months ago, without ever realizing, and he’d thrown it back in Varian’s face before he’d even really known him. So fucking stupid. His head spins. “Right.”

Varian nods. His eyes drift away again. “Sorry,” he says, absent-minded. “For dismissing the question before. I thought you were joking, at first.”

Hugo shakes his head, thrown. “I… it doesn’t matter, it—” He exhales, sharp. “Why… why did you _tell_ me this?”

“It seemed important to you.” Varian looks at the ground, gaze distant, like those words aren’t yet another gut-punch. _Important to you._ Like easing Hugo’s fears are worth spilling secrets for, worth—whatever this is. Goddamn. God _damn._ And Varian smiles then, a halfway-smile, a wry crook of his mouth that creases at his eyes, and something in Hugo’s chest misses a beat. “And faith always matters.” 

“And what if Nuru was right?” Hugo doesn’t know why he says it, and wants suddenly to slap himself. The fuck? But still: once again, he can’t stop himself from asking, from digging in the knife. “When she said I couldn’t be trusted. What if you’re wrong?”

“Nuru doesn’t say that anymore. What’s with you today?” Varian rolls his eyes, briefly, then turns and fixes Hugo with a smile, bright and blinding. “Besides. _Am_ I wrong?” 

And the worst part is—the absolute worst part—is that he says it dryly, says it sure, says it—like Varian knows, implicitly, that the answer is no.

 _Yes,_ Hugo thinks. “No,” he forces out, and smiles, and hates it.

“There you go.” Varian shrugs and turns back to his experiment, conversation over. Hugo stares at the back of his head. He feels sick. He feels dizzy. He feels like all the world has dropped at his feet, everything he’d never even known he wanted placed right in his hands—and the loss is sudden and sickening, because Hugo has already given this all away, handed it off long before he’d ever known what this treasure was worth. 

Still. “Thanks,” Hugo says, through his teeth, and just barely manages to keep it from shaking.

And it’s terrible, all of it—the way Varian ducks his head, the way his shoulders curl, the way the other hides his smile against his arm like Hugo can’t see the gleam of his teeth in the dark, the gentle joy.

“Of course.”

Awful.

Hugo walks back to the fire. Yong is laughing at a joke. Nuru, once so suspicious, smiles up at him—then sees his face, and the smile falters. She frowns, suddenly, her brow furrowing. She says, “Hey, Hugo, are you okay?”

 _Never mind,_ she’d said earlier, all of Hugo’s secrets there before her to unravel. _I want to trust you,_ Varian had said, months and months ago, offering his hand to a boy who’d already made the choice to betray them. _Faith always matters._

Donella, smiling. 

“Fine,” Hugo says, with a smile he doesn’t feel, but the truth beats behind his skull like a heartbeat, and behind his back his hands are shaking. He’s played himself into a corner—caring about these people, about _Varian_ especially. Hugo, the greatest fucking fool of them all, wanting to live up to their expectations only _now_ , when its already too damn late.

“Just fine,” Hugo says, and settles by the fire, Yong’s chatter and Nuru’s worried eyes and Varian’s distant humming—and closes his eyes to it all, holding his breath, as though if he stays still and quiet and careful he can stretch this moment out, keep this moment here, and make it so he doesn’t have to lose them at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> *holds varigo very gently in my hands* it's about the soul-crushing realization that you're betraying your newfound found family... it's about the heartbreak... it's about the REDEMPTION... 
> 
> Anyways, I love Hugo lots sdjkfghg
> 
> [If you wanna rec this fic, you can reblog it here!!](https://izaswritings.tumblr.com/post/616306303214747648/title-hello-to-my-old-heart-fandom-rapunzels) Also, if you have any questions or just want to talk, [my tumblr](http://izaswritings.tumblr.com) is always open!!
> 
> Any thoughts?


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